


a legacy to protect

by cauli



Category: Designated Survivor (TV), Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst, F/M, Modern Era, Politics, President Alexander Hamilton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cauli/pseuds/cauli
Summary: At every major event, such as the State of the Union or inaugurations, one designated survivor is kept at an undisclosed location.Alexander Hamilton would not be the country's first choice (or their second choice, really).Or,The author read a fic they really loved and simultaneously started watching Designated Survivor and West Wing.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington, Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler (past), Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens (past)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [being a survivor (stay alive)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962431) by [littlekoroleva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlekoroleva/pseuds/littlekoroleva). 



> so far this is a one-shot but I'm pretty sure im going to continue this so i hope you enjoy!

“Eliza, give me a sip,” Alexander leaned over his girlfriend, reaching for her still-full mug of hot chocolate.

“Alexander, what? No— get off!” Eliza shoved her boyfriend roughly with her shoulder, “I made you your own mug.”

Alexander pouted. “I drank it all already.”

Eliza felt half of her wanting to give in, while the other half wanted to chug the drink down in a single gulp.

Like every other night, Alexander acts like a child, getting on Eliza’s nerves in the most endearing way possible. Then he’ll fall into another rant about his issue with the house or his newest update to his financial plan, and she’ll be reminded just how smart he is.

“That sounds like a personal problem,” Eliza took a deep sip from her mug, smiling at her boyfriend over the rim. Alexander pouted, burying his face into the crook of her shoulder, and Eliza rolled her eyes fondly.

The two of them expected to be at the Capitol that night, attending the State of the Union, Washington’s third since his reelection. They’d be attending as the Treasury Secretary and Deputy Secretary of Education, respectively. It wasn’t until Alexander had been announced as the designated survivor that their plans had changed. 

After a few minutes of constant badgering, Alexander managed to convince Washington to let him take Eliza with him. It’d been relatively simple, a single lunch date (The president had always had a soft spot for Alex, which might have helped as well). They were taken to a nice apartment in the outermost skirts of the city, sharing a soft blanket and mugs of Alex’s famous hot chocolate, while the rest of the Cabinet were at the Capitol waiting for Washington’s address.

“I admire your strength of will, madam,” Hercules spoke quietly from his station at the door, his lips curled into a small smile. 

“Hercules, I told you, you can drop the formalities when we’re alone,” Eliza chided lightly. “ We’ve known each other forever. But thank you. He tests that strength every day.”

Alexander stuck out his tongue indignantly. “You’re both so mean to me.”

“And it’s absolutely deserved,” Eliza smiled, taking another sip from her mug.

Hercules smiled at his feet and avoided responding. The other secret service agent— _Tallmadge, maybe?_ — stifled his laughter. 

Alexander and Hercules were old friends. He had been one of his first friends at Columbia and one of the first people Eliza had been introduced to in her boyfriend’s personal life. Both Hercules and the President had thought it best for Mulligan to accompany the couple, as Alexander had the uncanny ability to annoy almost every other agent to the point of leaving.

Hercules had acquired the special ability to see past Alexander's many quirks (Eliza suspected that this was due to prolonged exposure in their college days).

Alexander sighed, and Eliza redirected her to the flatscreen. On-screen, the camera panned across the Capitol, countless politicians talking amongst themselves as they waited for President Washington to take the stage.

“How are you feeling about POTUS’s speech tonight?” Eliza asked, craning her neck to look at her boyfriend in the eye.

“He’ll kill it,” Alexander spoke with unwavering confidence. “He always does.”

“You wrote this one, right?” Eliza traced invisible patterns on Alexander’s skin. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “It’s why I wanted to go tonight.” He frowned at the TV, staring at his colleagues talking amongst themselves. Eliza could feel the disappointment radiating off of him. This was a big day for him; for all of them, being there would’ve been amazing.

“I think we have the best seat in the house,” Eliza reassured him, “Camera will be a lot closer than anywhere we would’ve sat.”

“Still,” Alexander said, “Something different about seeing it in person.” Eliza hummed, in response, resorting to rubbing his back comfortingly.

Washington had the best speechwriters in the world at his disposal, and yet Alex’s work would always be his first choice. Of course, Alexander would never say no to Washington (Eliza didn’t think he had it in him). Somehow, he also managed the nation’s treasury, all while finding time for her. Honestly, she really wasn’t sure how he did it all. Sometimes she speculated that he ran on his own clock— one with more than twenty-four hours in the day.

“Is Angelica there tonight?” 

“No,” Eliza sighed, “She wanted to be there, but māmā wanted her home. It’s the fourth, y’know how she is about that sort of stuff.” Alexander nodded silently, his eyes trained on the TV. On-screen, the room quieted as Washington approached the pedestal. The president smiled charmingly, speaking confidently with the occasional pause for applause.

“Listen to this part,” Alexander whispered, “We believe that in a country where every race and faith and point of view can be found,” he spoke in time with the President.

“ _We are still bound together as one people; that we share common hopes and a common creed,[ 1 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538093/chapters/67348078#chapter_1_endnotes)_” Washington finished Alexander’s words on-screen, echoing through the living room.

“I liked that line,” he whispered, “Washington did too.” 

Eliza smiled fondly. To Alexander, there was no greater prize than Washington’s approval. Alexander’s eyes were trained on the TV when it happened. The deafening sound of static blared throughout the small living room.

“What’s happened?” Alexander asked. He frowned, grabbing the remote from the coffee table, flipping between the other channels, which continued to work. At the door, the two agents spoke harsh, muffled words into their comms. On the kitchen counter, Alexander’s phone started ringing. Eliza fished for her own within her pockets; its screen lit up with a notification from Peggy.

> **From: Pegster**   
>  _liza please tell me you're at home_   
>  _(9:36)_
> 
> _**From: Pegster**  
>  im not kidding please answer  
> (9:36)_

Before Eliza could reply, her phone was snatched by Tallmadge. The other agents, lower-ranking, agents poured in from the door, emptying everything around the room. They swept any trace of technology into bags. Eliza looked to the kitchen, where the other agents stripped him of his government-issued phone and laptop. For once in his life, Alexander looked at a loss for words.

“I need a motorcade sent here immediately,” Hercules said, speaking into his radio. “Do we have any updates?” Hercules furrowed his eyebrows in concentration before his eye-widened in shock. “Are we sure?” 

“What is it?” Eliza grabbed Hercules’ forearm, forcing him to look at her. Hercules hung up the phone, his face falling into a grim expression.

“The General is confirmed dead.” Alexander and Eliza exchanged equally distressed glances.

_Washington._

“No,” Alexander breathed. He reached for the kitchen counter, leaning on it for support. “No, Herc, that’s not possible.”

Hercules kept talking as if Alexander hadn’t spoken; his jaw set tightly. “As of now, there are no confirmed survivors at the Capitol,” Hercules said stoically, “As such, we are enacting the Presidential Succession act. You are the acting President of the United States.” Eliza’s jaw went slack, any words escaping her completely. 

“We need to leave now, sir,” Tallmadge stepped back into the apartment, returning from the hallway. “The motorcade's arrived. We’re taking you to the West Wing.”

* * *

Alexander and Eliza’s arrival at the West Wing was eerie, watching as the effects of the night unfolded in front of them. Every available television screen had a different network reporting on the bombing—harrowing footage of a mushroom cloud rising above the Capitol. White House staff and deputy secretaries—some he knew some he didn’t— were scattered around the halls, either sobbing or frozen in shock.

Their arrival disrupted the unsettling quiet, and eyes were drawn to them as they were escorted into the building. Alexander glanced down at himself self-consciously, suddenly hyper-aware of his appearance. In a very unpresidential combination of grey sweatpants and an old Columbia sweatshirt, Alexander couldn't imagine himself in the oval office.

Alexander had never been the first choice for the office. He’d been a controversial choice from the beginning to the media— young, half Hispanic, and loud (And privately, a closeted bisexual). In hindsight, Washington had been the only person who’d believed he’d be fit for the office.

“Hamilton!” Aaron Burr parted the sea of people, weaving his way through the small crowd that had gathered around him and Eliza. He approached them quickly, followed by a woman in a pantsuit, bible in hand. Any sense of relief Alexander had gained from Burr’s arrival delved quickly into panic at the sight of the small book.

“Burr, as professional as ever,” Alexander attempted to regain his composure, “It’s nice to see you alive.”

“Likewise, Hamilton.”

“As professional as ever I see,” Alexander breathed, “I’m guessing you’ve come to me for more than pleasantries?” 

In lieu of replying, Burr stepped aside, allowing the woman behind him to step forward. “This is Judge Harris.”

“Nice to meet you, Mister Hamilton.” 

Alexander felt like he was going to throw up. “And you, Judge Harris.” She nodded sharply.

“Now, traditionally, the Chief Justice swears in the President, but she attended the State of the Union.” Alexander swallowed. The judge turned to Eliza. “Ma’am, could you hold the bible?” Eliza was going green at her ears but nodded quickly.

“Sir, please place your right hand on the bible.”

Somewhere in the crowd, Alexander spotted Angelica Schuyler, pushing her way through the sea of White House staff. Alexander took a shaky breath.

“Repeat after me, I, Alexander James Hamilton—”

_“I, Alexander James Hamilton do solemnly swear—”_

Eliza's eyes found his.

“—that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States—“

Alexander’s body trembled.

“—that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States—“

Cameras flashed.

“—and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

“—and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.” The words tumbled out of his mouth clumsily, and Alexander prayed they were somewhat comprehensible. His orating skills had yet to fail him, and he hoped they'd served him well now. The Judge retrieved the book from Eliza’s hands and turned to Alexander, nodding at the two of them. From the crowd, Angelica emerged, put-together as ever. Her eyes were tired but relieved as she hugged Eliza tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered, “I texted Peggy. She was so worried about you.”

“Thanks, they took my phone when the news broke,” Eliza explained, “I really did mean to text her back.”

“She’ll forgive you,” Angelica reassured. Alexander stood to the side awkwardly. She turned to him, her expression unreadable as she looked him up and down.

“Alexander.”

“Angelica.” Her expression broke into a smile, pulling him into a close hug.

“Nice to see you standing, Hamilton,” she whispered, “Let’s hope we keep it that way, yeah?” Angelica released him, smoothed her dress and looked him hard in the eyes.

“I’ll do my best,” Alexander’s attempt at a joking tone fell flat. Angelica, as quick as ever, nodded sharply.

“Good,” she said, “Now let’s get to the Residence. We have some work to do.”

“Right.”

* * *

“Eliza’s in the Oval preparing the office for your first Presidential address,” Aaron explained as the three of them walked through the White House halls quickly, “You need to present a calm front.”

“The people need a voice of reason,” Angelica added, “That has to be you. There’s a lot of rumours and news stories going on right now. There needs to be someone to speak for the government. John will bring you a suit, and you just have to wait in the Residence.”

“Right.”

“Normally, we’d have a writer bring you a prepared speech, but I figured you’d have that handled—”

“And our head speechwriter was at the Capitol,” Aaron added.

“Which I’m working to replace,” Angelica said, “That along with almost every other position, since, y’know, I’m Deputy Chief of Staff.”

Alexander nodded, drafting the speech in his head. “When do we go live?”

“Hour and a half,” Angelica said, “But we need you in the oval in an hour.” They stopped walking as they arrived outside the Residence.

“I’m going to leave you here,” she said, “Good luck Alex.” She nodded sharply, the clicks of her high heels fading as she walked down another hall. 

“Are you okay?” Alexander blinked.

“What?”

“You’ve gone quiet. It’s out of character.” Alexander almost wanted to laugh, let out his frustration about everything on Aaron. The more reasonable part of his brain stopped him. He took a deep breath.

“It’s just a lot,” he said honestly, “To be frank with you, I’m barely keeping my head above the water.”

“You’re handling it well.”

“You don’t need to lie to me, Burr,” Alexander said, laughing bitterly, “I’m a mess.”

“You’re doing your best, Hamilton,” Burr said, “That’s all we can ask right now. You have your heart in the right place. I know that. Just keep your head up.”

“Thanks, Burr,” Alexander laughed bitterly. “Didn’t you’d be the one giving me advice.”

“Stranger things have happened.” 

“I suppose you’re right.”

Burr sighed. “I’m gonna leave you here. Laurens is on his way.”

“Will I see you before the broadcast?”

“I’ll be waiting for you in the oval,” Burr sighed. “See you in an hour.” Alexander nodded and walked into the Residence.

The room was eerily quiet. Alexander had only visited the residence a handful of times. 

“Alex!” John walked into the room with a hanger in hand, “I’ve got your suit.”

“Thanks, Laurens,” Alexander said, attempting to school any lingering worry from his expression. “This was desperately needed.”

“I can tell,” John said jokingly, “It’s black, sort of boring, but with a green tie. Your favourite.” 

“You always think of the little things, Laurens.”

“That’s my job,” John agreed, “I’m your aide now. Making sure everything is a-okay is in the job description.”

“Give me a run-down on what’s about to happen?”

“Definitely,” John said, nodding, “The deputy secretaries are on their way to the Situation Room. We’ll head there once you’ve changed. Most of them are just collecting various papers on the protocol.”

“Great, well, do you mind getting out while I change?”

“My, my, you’re so modest, Mister President,” John joked, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“If you call me that again I’ll kick your ass,” Alexander said, “But seriously一 get out, dude.”

“Fine, fine,” John said, “I’ll wait outside to escort you to the Situation Room.”

The Situation Room was filled to the brim with deputy secretaries. Several were screaming into phones while the others we’re typing furiously, all while every screen showed a different angle of the Capitol bombing. He vaguely recognized most of them. He remembered seeing them follow his colleagues around the White House, acting more as assistants than anything else.

Part of Hamilton was expecting his colleagues at the table, Washington heading the meeting with his commanding and authoritative presence. Adams would’ve been nodding off, Knox probably tapping his foot all while Alexander would’ve taken it upon himself to take notes for the meeting. 

But Washington wasn’t here. And the reality is suddenly hitting Alexander that he is honestly, truly alone.

_“No, I’m not Secretary Knox. He attended the State of the Union. What? No, listen一.”_

_“Listen, we need to close our borders. You have to send me any intel you have on people crossing the border illegally. What? No, not just the Mexican border, the Canadian one too. I don’t care what Trudeau says; it's a matter of national security.”_

_“We don’t know if this was a one time attack. I need all our hospitals and doctors on full alert.”_

_“Wolcott, we need you in now. Hamilton’s been inaugurated. As of now, you’re acting Treasury Secretary.”_

In all the commotion, his entrance went unnoticed. Alexander turned to John, still standing at his side.

“Where’s our security advisor?” John shook his head.

“He was at the State of the Union.”

“The deputy?” 

“On his way.” Alexander grimaced.

“Is Oliver here?” Alexander raised his voice to be heard above the various yelling voices. The realization that Alexander had arrived quieted the room immediately, everyone standing and turning to him. Alexander shifted his weight uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to commanding the room with ease. He’d always had to fight for the attention of the room. It was strange, though not unwelcome. It was actually one of the first things he was enjoying with this new office.

“No sir,” one of the secretaries spoke up, “He’s on his way. He was with his family during the bombing.”

“Right, well, everyone sit down,” Alexander sighed, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Have we closed the market yet?” The secretaries looked at him blankly. Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and straightened his suit. “Right, let’s get started then. We have an hour to put something together for the press. What do we got? State, you first.”

* * *

_**TREASURY SECRETARY ALEXANDER HAMILTON SWORN IN** _   
_Designated Survivor Alexander Hamilton was sworn in last night after the confirmed death of President Washington._

_**VICE PRESIDENT NOMINEE TO BE ANNOUNCED**  
Several recognizable names decorate our list for options for the Vice President Office. _

_**WATCH PRESIDENT HAMILTON’S FIRST ADDRESS TO THE NATION**  
The young President makes his first address in the oval office accompanied by his long-time girlfriend and Deputy Secretary of Education Eliza Schuyler. _

* * *

Alexander didn’t like working in the Oval Office. Everywhere he looked, Washington was staring at him from beyond the grave. His pens and photos hadn’t been moved out. Everything was exactly as he left it before the State of the Union. A picture of his and Martha’s wedding remained on the corner of the desk. Another framed photo sat on the bookcase of him and Alexander from the campaign trail. Washington sported a rare smile as he stood at the podium. Alexander and Adams stood at either side.

“Still doesn’t feel real, right?” Angelica’s heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked in. She walked into the room binders in hand; no doubt filled to the brim with various procedural papers for him to sign. “Even after everything that’s happened tonight, I still feel like I’ll wake up tomorrow, and Washington will be here.”

“It doesn’t feel real,” Alexander agreed, “I’ve been in office for less than twenty-four hours, and I feel like I’ve gained at least three grey hairs.” He ran his hand through his hair. At this point in the night, it’d lost any semblance of style from his address earlier in the night.

“To be fair, they’ve been a stressful couple of hours.” 

Angelica and Alexander had always had a fairly odd relationship. They’d met at a DC bar, Alexander fresh out of college and Angelica had just gotten her first internship at the White House. 

One thing had led to another, and somehow they’d fallen into bed together. The two of them woke up together and had mutually decided they’d be better off as friends after going out for breakfast.

Alexander sighed.

“I should call Lafayette.”

“We already did,” Angelica sighed, “We, as in John and I, called Lafayette earlier tonight, after your address. He’s on routes now; he’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

“Good,” Alexander muttered, “That’s… good.”

Lafayette had been as close to Washington as Alexander was. They were practically brothers, Washington, a pseudo-father figure (as much as Alexander loathed to admit it). Lafayette, admittedly, had been far more accepting of Washington's affection; Alexander couldn’t imagine what he’d be going through right now.

“The whole gang is getting back together,” Angelica grabbed a photo from Washington’s desk. A small one, from their army days. Washington, Lafayette, Laurens and Alexander sat around the dinner table in one of their tents. Alexander and Laurens had paused their game of cards to smile at the camera. Lafayette meanwhile had draped himself over Washington, who smiled fondly.

“Not the whole gang.”

“You’re awful at changing the subject,” Angelica sighed. “I’m trying to lighten the mood.”

“I’m sorry,” Alexander exhaled slowly. “Everything, it’s just a lot.”

“Angel, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Alexander admitted. “I don’t know how to be President.”

“So you bullshit it,” she shrugged, “That’s the job. Ready or not, you’ve got a country hanging on to your every word Alexander. Sure, in the beginning, you might have to wing it for a while, but I have full confidence you’ll figure it out.”

“Careful there Angel,” Alexander said playfully, “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Then again, all the ‘Mister President’ shit’s probably doing enough of that already.”

“Why’d you come in here again, Angelica?”

“Right,” Angelica sobered up. “We need a Veep,” Alexander swore under his breath.

“I forgot about that,” he sighed. “What are our options?” 

“Not a long list, unfortunately,” Angelica replied, taking a seat on one of the Oval Office’s couches. Most of the more viable candidates we would’ve chosen from attended the State of the Union.”

“What about you?”

“You’re funny,” Angelica said, “Nice one.”

“I’m serious!” Alexander insisted, “You’re smart, and I value your advice. We work amazing together. What’s the issue here?”

“Besides the fact we had sex when we first met?” Alexander rolled his eyes. “Something tells me that might be a conflict of interest.”

“I’m serious, Angelica.”

“And so am I,” she said, “Alexander, you know just as well as I do that Vice President is a title, nothing more,” Angelica rolled her eyes. “Besides, if you’re trying to become a more likeable President to all Americans, choosing a mixed-race female democrat as your VP is not the way to do it.”

“Angelica, when have I ever given a shit what the public thinks of me? Let alone if they think I’m likeable.” 

“Ever since you became the President,” she chided him, “This is bigger than you, Alexander.” Alex sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his suit jacket.

“Hit me with your number one choice,” he said, “If it is not you, you might as well give me suggestions.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Angelica, we can’t afford to dance around the answer right now,” Alexander said, “Whoever it is, I’m sure is fine. I trust you.” Angelica still looked unconvinced. “Angelica, I'm a grown-ass man. I can take it.” Alexander rolled his eyes. “Besides whoever this person is, they’ll be better than Adams. He didn’t set the bar very high.”

“Thomas Jefferson.”

“You’re funny.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Angelica, you’re telling me Jefferson is the sole survivor of the bombing?” Alexander asked. 

Angelica shook her head. “He wasn’t there. Jefferson decided to take a vacation and didn’t have the decency to notify anyone. I had to find out from his assistant an hour ago.”

“Is this supposed to convince me to take him?”

“Alexander look,” Angelica rested her hands against the desk, sighing.,” she said, “It makes sense.”

“He’s not even a Democrat.”

“It’ll appease the Republicans,” she said, “You and I both know that if and when you run for a second term, he won’t run as your VP. At the moment, though, he’s a good choice. You’re what the Republicans call a radical leftist, and let’s be honest, you’re not their first choice for president. By choosing Jefferson, one of their star Republicans as Veep, you gain their trust.”

“I hate when you’re right.”

“You’d think that you’d be used to it by now.”

* * *

“I didn’t think you’d come to bed tonight.” 

Eliza dog-eared her page and closed her book. She’s changed back into the sweats she’s been wearing earlier that night. She sat on top of the sheets, the bed still perfectly made. 

“Neither did I,” Alexander admitted, “Though it’s hardly night anymore, is it?”

“Only a little later than usual,” Eliza sighed, “I tried to make myself at home, but…” She trailed off, gesturing at the room vaguely.

“I know what you mean,” Alexander said, “Sitting in the Oval一 it didn't feel right.” Eliza and tapped the spot on the couch beside her.

“Come, sit,” she said, “It’s been a long day.” 

Eliza reached for his hand, squeezing it reassuringly, and Alexander sighed, resting his head on her shoulder. 

“What are you reading?”

“The Sound and the Fury.” Alexander furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Faulkner?” Eliza nodded. “I didn’t know you read Faulkner.”

“I didn’t,” she admitted quietly. “Martha did.” The silence that filled the room spoke the words neither could bring themselves to say.

“Would you be totally opposed to the idea of sleeping on the couch?” Alexander spoke quietly, burrowing his face further into Eliza’s shoulder.  
“You don’t feel comfortable sleeping in the bed, either?” Alexander shook his head. Eliza felt a small smile make its way onto her face. “I’ll grab the blankets, and you grab the pillows?”

“You know me so well.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Excerpt from Barack Obama's State of Union Speech in 2012.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just as a reference: the schuylers are half african american and half singaporean

“Hamilton, what are you doing here?” Burr’s smooth baritone broke the odd silence of the break room. Hamilton frowned and gestured at the whirring coffee maker beside him.

“I’m making coffee.”

“You do have people to do that for you, you know that, right?” Aaron spoke matter-of-factly. “Namely, interns and Laurens. He _is_ your personal aide, not just your friend.”

Alexander blinked, suddenly registering the other people around him. The White House staffers had begun walking in, grabbing a quick breakfast or coffee, though Alexander would have to be completely oblivious to the strange looks he was receiving.

“I guess the president doesn’t typically get coffee in the break room, does he?” 

“Typically, not, no,” Aaron sighed, “Listen, Hamilton. Are you feeling alright? What time did you get to sleep?”

“What are you, my mother?” Alexander joked, “Not too, late, don’t worry about it.” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “I’m serious, if you’re really that worried, ask Eliza, we went to sleep around the same time.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“Was about to,” Alexander lied. He grabbed an apple from the office fruit bowl. “See?” Burr, sighed, rubbing his temples.

“You’re barely functional Hamilton,” Burr said, “Really, it's a miracle you’ve made it this far.”

“Here here to that,” Alexander grabbed his now full cup of coffee, raising it in a toast, “There’s so much to do Burr, can’t fall behind, not when there’s a country to put back together.” Alexander took a deep sip from his cup. _Scalding, just the way he likes it._ “Speaking of, let’s get to the Oval then, shall we? Then we can talk about… whatever we’re working on today.” Alexander gestured for Burr to follow him and began the short walk to the Oval Office.

Burr hummed, following slowly and pulling out his phone. “Well, Lafayette is landing this morning, you’re due to greet him later this morning,” Aaron sighed, reading off a small list. “You and Eliza will be driven there in two hours. There’s a press conference at noon, but I’ll take care of that.” The pair of men paused in front of the Oval Office.

“Other than that, just try to take it slow,” Burr recommended, “It’s your first full day, no one’s expecting you to rebuild the government in twenty-four hours.”

“Thanks, Burr,” Alexander sighed, “And if you see Angelica, can you send her my way? We have a couple of staffing things we need to talk about.”

“Of course,” Aaron nodded, “Have a good day Mister President.” 

“See you later, Burr.” Burr turned to leave but paused in his tracks. Alexander frowned. “Have you forgotten something, Burr?”

“No, Mister President.”

“Then what is it, Burr?”

“Don’t forget to eat your apple.” Alexander cracked a small smile. “Eliza wouldn’t be happy if you forgot.”

“I won’t.” Burr smiled in return.

“Good day Mister President.”

* * *

“I’m liking the motorcade rides,” Eliza commented off-handedly, “Much more comfortable than the subway.” Eliza wasn’t looking at him as she spoke, her eyes trained on the DC roads. She looked as beautiful as ever, the sun hitting her in a mesmerizing way, reflecting off her glossy dark hair. How did he get this lucky?

“What, is the subway not good enough for you?” Alexander asked, “I’ll have you know that I commuted to the office for several years on the subway.”

“And you’re saying the motorcade isn’t the slightest bit better?” Eliza smiled playfully. “Maybe a little more comfortable,” Alexander conceded, “Though it’s awfully dark in here.”

“That’d be due to the all-black exterior sir.” Tallmadge, under all the professionalism and stoic looks, was snarky at heart, Alexander _loved_ him for it.

“Keep driving Tallmadge,” Alexander felt a smile playing at his lips. “That’s an order.” Alexander saw Tallmadge’s upper lip quirk upwards in the rearview mirror.

“Of course, sir.”

Eliza swatted his arm slightly, “Don’t be mean Alex, he’s just doing his job.”

“I can be as mean as I want to be,” Alexander huffed, “All of you are plenty mean to me, it’s unfair really. You’re all bullies, really.”

“Says the President of the United States,” Eliza quipped, “You’ll live Alexander.” The car pulled into the hanger, coming to a slow stop.

“We’ve arrived sir,” Tallmadge said, “I can let you off here, or I can keep driving. Per your order of course.”

“Here’s fine, thank you, Ben,” Eliza said. Tallmadge nodded and stepped out of the car. A second later, Tallmadge and another agent opened either door of the limousine. Alexander stepped out slowly, straightening his suit jacket. 

“Thank you,” Alexander whispered. The agent nodded curtly. Eliza walked around the front of the limousine, slipping her hand into his. Alexander, in turn, squeezed it affectionately. Alexander turned forward, raising his gaze in what he hoped looked like confidence. At the base of the airplane, Alexander could see Lafayette, leaning on a dark suitcase.

“There he is,” Eliza whispered. The two walked in tandem across the hanger. As they approached Lafayette Alexander couldn’t help a smile from making its way to his lips.

“Ambassador Lafayette, welcome back.” 

Lafayette looked more exhausted than Alexander had ever seen him. Even during the war, his friend had always had an unparalleled sense of energy to him, but now he just looked drained. He stood tall, his aristocratic posture ever-present, even in his most exhausted state.

“Mister President,” he replied, “It’s good to see you.” Alexander smiled and pulled his friend into a tight hug. Lafayette embraced him with equal fervour. “I’ve missed you _mon petit lion[ 1.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538093/chapters/67535969/preview#chapter_2_endnotes)_”

“I feel like the last time we saw each other was years ago,” Alexander whispered, “ _Il y a beaucoup qu’on doit faire mon ami.[ 2 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538093/chapters/67535969/preview#chapter_2_endnotes)_”

“I’m here to help,” Lafayette sighed. “I only wish that it had been under better circumstances.” Lafayette released him and turned towards Eliza. He spread his arms wide.

“ _Et la belle_ Eliza _,[ 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538093/chapters/67535969/preview#chapter_2_endnotes)_ it has been too long,” Lafayette smiled hugging her with equal fervour. “I hope you’re doing well.”

“As well as I can be, all things considered,” Eliza replied.

“Ah, well, that’s the best we can hope for in this unprecedented time,” Lafayette nodded sagely. The group fell into a sad silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on their shoulders. Alexander cleared his throat.

“Your English improves every time I see you,” he joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “It’s admirable really.”

“I always seek to improve myself, Alexander,” Lafayette said, “It‘s one of my more admirable traits.”

“Of your many qualities I’m sure,” Alexander agreed.

“But of course,” Lafayette’s eyes twinkled with a life he hadn’t arrived with. “Now, let’s travel back to the White House, yes? I quite miss dear Hercules and John.”

* * *

“Good afternoon everyone, I know there’s a lot on everyone's mind so I’ll keep my section quick.” He flashed his standard charming smile. “I’m pleased to inform you all that the Hamilton Administration has experienced a smooth transition since the president’s inauguration. Additionally, President Hamilton and his longtime partner, former Deputy Secretary of Education Schuyler will be meeting French Ambassador Lafayette at the airport who has flown in for the upcoming funeral for the late President Washington.” Burr straightened his notes. “Finally, Former Deputy Chief of Staff Schuyler has been promoted to Chief of Staff, and will continue to work closely with the President to rebuild the White House Staff and Cabinet.” 

This was the part of the job Aaron hated most, actually talking to the press. He’d much rather devise his political strategies with the rest of the West Wing. For better or worse, he was good at his job, the best, really (He had to be, Washington had despised him. His hiring was all Alexander’s doing).

Aaron smiled confidently. “Now, any questions?” All at once, almost every hand in the room was in the air. “Right, well, you then. In the front?” He nodded towards a young woman in the third row.

“Right, I’m Gloria Freeman from Fox News, I have an inquiry about Alexander Hamilton’s eligibility for the presidency?” Aaron frowned.

“What do you mean exactly?”

“I have it on good authority that President Hamilton was born in the Virgin Isles,” Freeman said, “Does the White House have any comments on that?”

“President Hamilton was born in New York City,” Aaron corrected, “He was born shortly after his mother immigrated from the Virgin Isles, I imagine that must be where the confusion stems from.” Freeman frowned but typed something quickly.

Aaron pressed his lips together into a thin line. “Next question, please.” A shorter man in the front row frowned and stretched his hand forward.

“Secretary Burr I also have a question about the legitimacy of the Presidency.”

“And who might you be?”

“Anderson Clyde, One America News,” he glanced down at his notes, “A couple of months ago there was a scandal concerning President Hamilton’s age. I’m sure you’ll remember?” Aaron resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“The Birth Certificate Scandal, I’m familiar.”

“And obviously the President’s age was called into question after a rumour surfaced that he had been presenting himself as two years older than he actually was. Obviously, this would be an issue, since Hamilton presents himself as thirty-five at the oldest, recently turning so last month.”

“Yes, I’m aware of the scandal last year,” Aaron spoke evenly, attempting to reign in his temper. Why were they focusing on this? These were old scandals. 

_Though,_ he mused, _I suppose everything becomes more interesting when they become the President._

“And if you remember Mister Clyde, President Hamilton’s birth certificate was recovered.” Aaron took a deep breath. “I believe that should be sufficient. Final question,” he glanced around for a second before pointing vaguely to a woman in the third row. “Yes, you.’

“I had a question about the Cabinet positions, I’m Sarah McGloughlin from the Global Mail.” Aaron smiled, finally, a relevant question, motioning for her to go on. “We’ve speculated on some choices but can you provide any details?”

“Unfortunately, the discussions about the new hires are between the Chief of Staff and the President,” Aaron sighed, “I can say, however, that it’s likely for the President to rehire his Deputy Secretary Wolcott to the head position.” McGloughlin smiled, writing something in her notebook. Aaron sighed and straightened his notes. “Now, that would be all for today. Thank you all for coming.” He smiled tightly, grabbed his notes and stepped off the podium.

“So, Mister President?” Lafayette sat on the couch of the Oval Office, legs crossed over one another and a glass of whiskey in one hand. Alexander had a matching glass resting on a side table. Though drinking at two in the afternoon was far from classy, Alexander figured an exception could be made. Eliza had forgone their day drinking in favour of meeting up with her younger sister for a late lunch. The third Schuyler had just arrived in town for a family visit when the State of the Union happened.

“Don’t remind me,” Alexander muttered. He took a swig from his glass.

“I imagine that it’s hard to forget,” Lafayette commented. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” 

Lafayette looked around the room, eyes fleeting over various details Washington had left behind. Lafayette paused, his gaze lingering on something across the room. He stood up slowly, crossed the office and picked up a small picture frame from one of the many shelves.

“We look so small,” the Frenchman's voice was quiet, almost inaudible. He laughed bitterly. “God, where did the time go?” He tilted the frame so Alex could see the picture. It was from one of the first days they’d met. Alexander smiled slightly.

“You don’t have your goatee there,” he observed, “And your hair is a good deal shorter.”

“I could say the same for you, my friend.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Alexander agreed. In the photo, they sported matching buzz cuts and clean-shaven faces. Nowadays, Lafayette's facial hair was well-groomed and his hair was pulled into a bun on the top of his head. Similarly, Alexander had a small goatee and his hair stopped a little past his ears.

It felt like a million years had passed since this photo was taken. Alexander voiced as much to Lafayette.

“Somehow, I think they have,” Lafayette agreed, “You have lived a thousand lives since then _mon chou_.” Alexander smiled dryly. In a way, Lafayette was right. As an orphan, a student, Washington’s personal aide, a lawyer, treasury secretary, and finally, the President. He turned to Lafayette to share his thoughts when a knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. Lafayette frowned.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Alexander furrowed his eyebrows together.

“I don’t think so,” he muttered, “Burr went through the schedule with me this morning, we’re not expecting any visitors.” He frowned. “Andre?” he called. The door opened and John Andre, a secret service agent stepped into view.

“Yes, Mister President?”

“Let in our guest,” Alexander said.

“Of course, sir.” The door opened slightly wider and the most obnoxious man Alexander had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

“I heard a certain Frenchman landed this morning, I had to come to see for myself.” Jefferson the bane of Alex’s existence stepped into the Oval Office. He looked around, humming appreciatively. “Nice place you’ve got here Mister President.”

Thomas Jefferson's suits were as loud and obnoxious as his personality. Today he’d gone for a putrid purple suit一 was that _swede?_ 一 and a silk mustard tie. Alexander gagged mentally.

“Thomas!” Lafayette said excitedly. “I had no idea you were in the Capital, I’d heard you were visiting Monticello for the weekend.”

“Hold on.” Alexander turned to Lafayette. “You _knew_ Thomas was going to be away from the State of the Union?”

“But of course,” Lafayette said, “Thomas called me a couple of days ago. Why do you ask?”

“Because Mister Jefferson here didn’t have the decency to inform the Secret Service,” Alexander said, “Honestly Jefferson, were you even thinking?”

“I didn’t come here to be insulted, Hamilton,” Jefferson bristled.

“Then you came to the wrong office,” Alexander said.

“I _came,_ because Angelica invited me.” Thomas continued speaking as if he wasn't interrupted. “She said we’d meet here to discuss an opportunity.” Alexander frowned.

“Perhaps I should go,” Lafayette suggested. “This discussion feels confidential一 above my security clearance, _oui_?”

“You don’t need to,” Alexander said, “Don’t feel like Jefferson is forcing you to leave.”

“ _C’est d’accord,_ ” Lafayette shrugged, “Dear Laurens and Mulligan are waiting for me in any case.” Lafayette grabbed his glass. “Thank you for the drink, _Alexandre_. _Adieu mes amis._ ” Lafayette bowed out of the Oval Office.

“Generous enough to pour me a drink, Mister President?” Jefferson waltzed around the office.

“I think it’s wise to be sober for the meeting,” Alexander said. “I’m not the one who’s going to have that conversation with Angelica.” Jefferson sighed indignantly, rolling his eyes like a child.

“I suppose even a broken clock is right twice a day,” he amended. 

Behind them, the door flew open Angelica standing her wake holding an intimidating stack of paper under each arm.

“Ready to get to work boys?”

* * *

Eliza had expected a perfectly peaceful lunch with Peggy. Instead, her younger sister showed up at their favourite cafe with their mother at her side.

Eliza cleared her throat. Peggy smiled at her apologetically, Eliza’s eyes conveying what they could not say in front of their mother.

 _I thought that this was supposed to be one on one._ Eliza huffed, stirring her tea with one hand.

 _I tried my best, you know how she is._ Peggy raised her menu, pretending to read the menu.

 _I do._ Peggy crushed her sugar cubes violently.

Obliviously, her mother smiled brightly, pouring herself a cup of tea. 

Catherine Schuyler had always held herself with an impenetrable grace that Eliza could never replicate. Even as she neared her late sixties she was as elegant as ever, her straight dark hair pulled into an elaborate twist at the back of her head. Her face was delicately painted with makeup, her signature red lip completely unsubmerged and her blush, perfectly rosy cheeks.

Her mother raised a delicate eyebrow.

“It’s been so long Eliza,” she said idly, “Your father and I had begun to worry you’d forgotten about us.”

For all her grace, Catherine Schuyler could be unbelievably tactless (a trait she and Angelica shared). She had the awful, innate ability to always find the exact thing Eliza didn’t want to talk about.

“I could never,” she insisted, “It’s just been a busy past couple of days.”

“I could imagine,” her mother agreed, “They have been keeping you busy up there. How’s you sister doing?”

“Angelica’s doing fine.” In an effort to change the topic of conversation, she turned to Peggy. “What about you, Pegs? How’s Wall Street treating you?” Peggy shrugged, taking a small bite out of her scone.

“I’m doin’ good,” she said, “You know how it is. The big boss runs the interns into the ground, while they chug some coffee.”

“In other words, you’re loving it?”

“You know me so well, sis,” Peggy smiled over the cup of her tea, “That reminds me, thank Alexander for me? He got me the internship.”

“Alexander just brought up your name to the right people,” Eliza said, “Your skills actually got you the job.”

“A job I wouldn’t have even been on the table for unless the Treasury Secretary had recommended me for.”

“Speaking of,” her mother said, “Your father sends his best, by the way, he asked me to ask you how your boy is doing?”

“Alexander is managing as well as expected,” Eliza said, “Washington’s death… it hit him hard, it hit all of us hard.” Her mother tutted quietly, her eyes still trained on one of the menus.

“I told you the fourth was a bad omen,” she said, “You should’ve told Alexander to convince Washington to postpone it.” Eliza fought the urge to roll her eyes. Washington wouldn’t have postponed the State of the Union over superstition, no matter how much he trusted Alexander. “You make sure that boy is getting enough sleep,” she continued, “I saw his speech on TV, he was looking…” she trailed off to look Eliza in the eyes over the top of the menu, “Tired.” Realistically, Eliza knew her mother’s intentions were in the right place, but her patience had been wasted at the White House.

“I think you can cut him a little slack,” Eliza snapped, “If you’d been there you would’ve seen that none of us were looking great.” Beside her, Peggy was immensely interested in her tea.

“Eliza you know I only want the best for you dear,” her mother said. “Your father and I both. We like that Alexander of yours, it wouldn’t do for him to fall ill, especially now that he’s in office. We expect you to take care of him.” Eliza sighed frustratedly.

“First of all, Alexander is a grown man, māmā, he can take of himself.” Her mom opened her mouth to speak but Eliza cut her off before she could. “Just一 stop, okay? Listen to me, for one second, please.” She took a deep, slow, breath. “Second, I don’t need your input on my relationship. Alexander and I are happy一 and isn’t that what matters?” Her mother was silent and poor Peggy was still wholly immersed in her teacup. Elia pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s been a really long week, I really don’t have the patience for this right now,” Eliza said honestly, “Can we _please_ just have a relaxing lunch?” Catherine pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Of course, tián xīn,[4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538093/chapters/67535969/preview#chapter_2_endnotes)” her mother said quietly. “I’m sorry if I overstepped dear, you know I only want what’s in your best interest.” 

“Right,” she sighed, “Of course.”

“Now, if you're quite finished.” Catherine returned her focus to the menu. “What were you thinking for lunch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 my little lion (French)  
> 2 There's a lot we have to do my friend (French)  
> 3 And the beautiful Eliza (French)  
> 4 Sweetheart (Chinese)


	3. Chapter 3

**_WHITE HOUSE QUIET ON NEW CABINET MEMBERS,_ ** _ Sarah McGloughlin _

_ After a Press Conference with Press Secretary Aaron Burr, the White House refuses to elaborate on new hires for the United States Cabinet. _

**_EXPERTS CONTINUE TO SPECULATE ON THE LEGITIMACY OF THE PRESIDENCY,_ ** _ Anderson Clyde _

_ Many of our readers will remember the Birth Certificate Scandal of last year, where the legitimacy of the President’s age was brought to light. Alexander Hamilton claimed to be two years older than he actually was. _

**_THE AMERICAN PEOPLE DESERVE AN AMERICAN PRESIDENT: THE IMMIGRANT HAS TO GO,_ ** _ Gloria Freeman _

_ Despite his disputes, Alexander Hamilton was born in the Virgin Isles, not New York City. _

* * *

Eliza had encouraged ( _ read: forced) _ Alexander to take breakfast in the residence that morning, as all the pressing matters taking place later in the day. 

They sat together on one end of the large dining room table, overlooking the back of the White House grounds as the sun rose over the white snow. It really was a beautiful view, one Alexander had never been able to take advantage of as the Treasury Secretary.

Before the Presidency, Alexander had spent his moments in the White House in a constant frenzy. Now that it was both his workplace and his home things had changed. He’d been able to find times to relax and take in the beauty of the historic building.

Off, in the distance, a gardener was walking Washington’s hounds.

Alexander frowned. “Venus and Sweetlips.” 

“Hm?” Eliza didn’t look up from her phone. “Did you say something Alexander?”

“Washington’s dogs,” Alexander said, “Where have they been the past few days?” Eliza frowned. 

“I’m not sure,” she said, “Probably with one of the guards?”

“A gardener is walking them right now,” Alexander said. Eliza hummed noncommittally. “What are we going to do with them, with Washington gone?”

“We could take care of them.”

“You think that’s what Washington would want?”

“Who else is going to take care of them?” Eliza asked, “Burr?” Alexander’s lips twitched in amusement.

“Washington would rise from the grave and take the dogs back himself.”

Eliza broke into a full-blown smile. “That we can agree on.”

After a moment, Alex peeled his eyes away from the window and pulled out his laptop.

“By God, I hate the free press.” Alexander scrolled over the daily headlines, his reading glasses rested on the tip of his nose. “So fucking annoying.”

“Can I remind you of your time as a head editor of  _ the Spectator? _ ” Eliza stirred her tea idly. “If I remember correctly, at the time at least, you were quite fond of the first amendment.” A White House staffer placed a small croissant in front of Eliza who thanked them accordingly. 

“You keep me honest Betsey.”

“Someone has to,” she smiled, sipping her tea. “What’s got you so worked out about the press anyway?”

“The conservative networks are speculating on the legitimacy of my Presidency,” Alexander grumbled, “Whether it be about where I was born一”

“Which we resolved last year.”

“ _ Or _ , when I was born一” 

“Also resolved last year.” Alexander huffed. 

“Honestly! In no world will I ever win over the far right.”

“As you should,” Eliza quipped, “Really, Alexander, I don’t know why you would want to win them over in the first place. When have you ever cared about what the other party thinks?”

“I started caring when I became the President,” Alexander said bitterly, “I don’t know if you’ve heard about this thing called approval ratings Eliza? They’re pretty important when you’re the President.”

“Alex一”

Alexander ignored her, barreling forward in pure frustration. “So far the only headline I’ve read that hasn’t been openly bashing me was speculating on the Cabinet一”

“Which you figured out with Angelica yesterday,” Eliza finished for him, “If I remember correctly, Aaron is due to address that later this morning.” Eliza’s gaze was steely, boring into Alexander’s soul. “Don’t take out your frustration on me, Alexander,” Eliza said, “I know you’re stressed. I know that it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. I understand, believe me. But it’s not fair to me.” Alexander looked down.

“I’m sorry, Eliza.”

“And I accept your apology,” she said, “Take a deep breath. It’s nine in the morning Alexander, you’ve got a long day ahead of you.” Alexander felt his anger fading, a smile replacing the frown he’d worn a couple of seconds ago. Eliza tended to have that effect on him.

“You’re brilliant, you know?”

“Someone has to be,” Eliza agreed, smiling smugly. “Now, tell me about your problems but try not to be as stressed about the press. People will talk, they always do. Your job is to make sure they’re talking about the right things.”

* * *

James Madison couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t best friends with Thomas Jefferson.

They’d been introduced like a business deal, both their parents presenting each infant in an effort to create an alliance between both families.

Where Thomas had grown strong and broad, James had remained short, frail and sickly, directly causing Thomas to become protective of him. James, in turn, became hyper-aware of Thomas’s mental state. Thomas had begun suffering from anxiety in his early teenage years and James had taken it upon himself to carry an extra dosage of his medication with him at all times (Thomas had a tendency to forget).

They knew each other deeply, intimately even. Each other’s worries and fears, hopes and dreams. They’d been through everything together: from the early days at the Randolph academy to Thomas’s Senate win. 

And now the Vice Presidency.

“It really is quite the office Thomas,” James said matter-of-factly, “A golden opportunity in… most unfortunate circumstances.”

“Cut the shit,  _ Mister Speaker _ ,” Thomas huffed, “It’s the most useless office in the Capital.” James didn’t deny it. “And to answer to Hamilton, of all people. Honestly Jem, it’s humiliating.”

Thomas had arrived not ten minutes ago, knocking violently on James’ front door with the undying need to complain about his new position.

“I can imagine.”

James had learned a long time ago that letting Thomas talk was the easy way towards the end of a conversation. It wasn’t that James wasn’t interested in what Thomas had to say, quite the contrary actually. Thomas had the intellectual proficiency of no one he’d ever seen (though, Hamilton may be the sole exception). 

The issue is, Thomas had a tendency to load plenty of details in front of the information he was actually attempting to convey.

“All I do is sit in that office working over paperwork,” Thomas fumed, pacing across the room, “No power, no sway in opinion. For God’s sake, I don’t even have the personal sway with the President that most Veeps do because  _ Hamilton _ is the fucking President.”

“Thomas, I understand that you’re in a…” James trailed off, attempting to find the correct word, “Frustrating position at the moment. But think about the future. Think about what this office can do for you in the future.” 

Thomas looked as if he wanted to say something but James raised a hand. “Before you speak, let me explain.” Obediently, Thomas stayed silent. James sighed, running over the numbers in his head. “Out of our forty-five past presidents, fifteen of those are ex-Veeps一 a third of all of them. Thirteen of them served immediately after their terms as Vice President. Before your office you were a senator, only three past presidents were senators immediately before becoming president.” James sighed. “The only positions with higher rates of accession to the Presidency than the Veep are as a governor or representative. We both know that you were interested in neither position.”

Thomas’s lips twitched into a small smile. 

“Sometimes I forget how smart you are Madison.”

“That’s only due to the fact that it’s immensely difficult to get a word in with your talking all the time,” James' words were sharp but his tone was light.

Thomas’ eyes sparkled playfully. “Someone has to talk between the two of us.” 

Though they joked, there was truth to his words. It was their dynamic: Thomas talked while James pulled the strings from behind the scenes.

“What about the new Cabinet?” James asked, “Anything… promising?”

“‘Fraid not, unfortunately,” Thomas said, “The whole place is filled to the brim with Hamilton’s lackeys. The Schuylers are Chief of Staff and Education respectfully, that aide, Laurens is a speechwriter now.” Thomas rolled his eyes.    
“There must be a rule about this somewhere, is it not a conflict of interest?”

“We’re in unprecedented territory Tom,” James spoke thoughtfully. “Never before has a president been dating someone who worked in the White House previous to his election.”

Thomas huffed, but dropped the topic. “Moreover, of course, he’s rehired his Deputy for the treasury, and I can only imagine the terror of replacement he'll pick for the State. With our luck, they’ll have as much tact as Hamilton himself.”

“God help us all in that case,” James said, “For all his genius, Hamilton can be quite the undiplomatic politician.”

“Hamilton is barely a politician,” James noted silently that Thomas didn’t dispute Hamilton’s genius. “Politicians lie, they manipulate. Fuck, it’s practically in the job description at this point. But not Hamilton, he remains an honest politician.” Thomas wrinkled his nose at  _ honest _ as if the very thought disgusted him. “He doesn’t have the stomach to manipulate. The only reason he’s made it as far as he has is about to be buried six feet under.”

“Exactly,” James said, “Washington has thrown Hamilton in the proverbial deep end to fend for himself. Now, all we have to do is wait and see. Will he sink? Or perhaps,” James felt the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a rare smile. “More interestingly so, will he swim?”

* * *

John huffed, dropping a large stack of papers on Aaron Burr’s desk, narrowly missing his laptop.

“Laurens, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, Burr. It’s from Hamilton.” Burr had a double-take.

“What’s all it for?” he asked, “Hamilton’s barely been in office for a week, he couldn’t have written all of this.” John shrugged.

“We need to proof-read them, they’re proposals for Congress. Additionally, Jefferson.”

“Are you sure this is for me?” Aaron asked, “Where’s our Comms Director?”

“Alexander is interviewing one as we speak,” John paused, breaking into a small smile. “After all, this is only half of the paperwork. I believe her test for the interview is the rest of this.” Aaron scoffed.

“God bless their soul.”

* * *

Alexander shuffled through the resume papers, Angelica seated beside him. Normally Angelica would take on this interview alone. However, the Communications Director was an imperative position at the White House. Alexander would work closely with the new hire, making it crucial that he be a part of the hiring force on this particular occasion.

Angelica took a sip of water, clearing her throat. “It says here you earned your bachelor’s in public relations at Princeton, correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

This woman, Theodosia Prevost, was the fourth person they’d interviewed that day. The others before her had been qualified but rather dull in Alexander’s opinion. Theodosia was shaping up to be different. She’d arrived on time, her dreadlocked hair pulled into a twist and dressed to the nines in a wine-coloured pantsuit. She held an air of professionalism but there was a certain spark to her that Alexander, nor Angelica, couldn’t quite place their fingers on.

“Cum laude too,” Alexander added, “Quite impressive. The whole thing really.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said proudly. She stood a little straighter, her gaze steeled with determination. Alexander glanced at Angelica who raised an impressed eyebrow. His Chief of Staff turned to Missus Prevost.

“And you believe you’d be the right fit for our White House?” Angelica asked, “There are many strong personalities on our team, I want to know that you will be able to compete with that. That you will ensure your voice is heard.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.” 

“I’ll give you one last warning,” she said jokingly, “Our dear President happens to have the strongest personality on board. You must be willing to fight with him on certain issues when you are sure of your stance.”

“Of course.”

Alexander broke into a wild smile.

“Wonderful,” he said, “Then we have one more thing for you to attempt.” Angelica rolled her eyes.

“Don’t let this man fool you,” she said, “He may look innocent but he is going to make your job very difficult.”

“Which is why I must give you this.” He reached below him and pulled up a large stack of papers, about a foot high. “As your final test before you’re officially hired, I’d like you to work on these. Some things I’d like to present to Congress.” 

Theodosia Prevost didn’t even blink.

* * *

“I always thought you looked natural in a gown,” Alexander spoke quietly, looking over Eliza’s shoulder into the mirror, “You look like the daughter of some eighteenth-century Lord.”

Eliza hummed, examining herself in the mirror. “A little too not-white for the eighteenth century,” Eliza said, “But you could pass for some founding father.” She gestured at his hair. “Shoulder length is plenty long enough for a seventeen hundreds era gentleman. Just add a little powder, well everywhere really, we’d need to whitewash you a little.”

“I will not stand for that,” Alexander huffed jokingly, “My temper’s far too delicate for the seventeen hundreds. Politics were much more civilized back then.”

“That’s what you're focusing on?”

Alexander shrugged. “The other part felt obvious.”

“That’s fair,” she agreed, smiling. Eliza reached for his tie, adjusting it with finality. “There. Ready to head out there?”

“Not in the slightest,” Alexander said, “Let’s go then.” 

They walked together towards the Residence elevator. They stood together in peaceful silence, Alexander humming along to the quiet elevator music. As their elevator arrived with a ping, Eliza linked her arm through his before walking through open doors into the large fray of people, smiling wide for the applause. Almost immediately, the couple were hounded by guests, all attempting to shake their hands. The Hamilton Administrations work in rebuilding the economy and their staff had been met with great pleasure from the rest of the Capital, making escaping from the crowd nearly impossible.

The Capital’s Elite had all gathered to celebrate the completion of the Hamilton Administration staff. New hires mingled under the bright DC lights, socializing and creating their own political web. 

Alexander leaned into Eliza whispering quietly as he continued to shake the hands of various guests. “They’re all rather entertaining, making a great deal of effort when all you have to do is wait for them to get shit faced.” Eliza stifled a giggled.

“You’re awful Alexander,” she whispered, “But so very correct.” Alexander smiled smugly. At the end of the crowd, John Laurens waited for them with a glass of champagne in each hand.

“Congratulations you two,” he said teasingly, “You’ve survived the handshakes.”

“My hands about to go numb,” Alexander said, reaching for the flute gratefully, “It'll be too soon if I never have to do that again.”

Eliza took a deep sip from her glass. “You’re talking like you won’t shake another hand tonight.” Alexander huffed in annoyance.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You’re both so dramatic,” John said, “The pair of you.”

“Made for each other I say,” Angelica chimed in, pushing her way through other party-goers, “Honestly. I never thought I’d meet anyone as dramatic as Lizzie, but Alexander was a welcome surprise.”

“We’re being ganged up on Betsey,” Alexander whined, “By my best friend and your sister.”

“‘I’d say we deserve it.” Eliza threw back the rest of her glass. “Can someone get me another flute?”

“Someone’s trying to party tonight,” Angelica said, impressed. Alexander opened his mouth to quip back when he noticed Jefferson sticking to himself in the corner of the ballroom.

“I’ll be just a moment,” he said, “You two, take care of her for me?” Angelica rolled her eyes and waved him off.

“Go network Mister President.” Alexander rolled his eyes good-naturedly, walking on an indirect path towards his Vice President.

“Careful there Jefferson.” Jefferson jumped at the sound of his voice. “Your mask is slipping.” Alexander continued sipping his champagne, carefully avoiding eye contact. For a moment, Jefferson let panic slip over his features before smoothing his expression.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about  _ Hamilton _ ,” Jefferson spoke Alexander’s name like it was the worst of curses. Alexander resisted the urge to roll his eyes, attempting to play nice.

“You can drop the act Jefferson,” Alexander said evenly, “Washington told me.”

“Of course he did,” Jefferson grunted, “What didn’t that man tell you?” Alexander didn’t deign him with an answer. “What did he tell you, anyway?”

“Not much,” Alexander admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “Mostly that you don’t like crowds. Are you claustrophobic?”

“Hamilton一”

“No, that then. Agoraphobic? I’ve heard you’re quite fond of that Montibello of yours,” Alexander paused to sip from his champagne, “In fact, wasn't it that estate of yours that kept you away from the State of the Union?”

“It’s called  _ Monticello,  _ and no I’m not either of those,” Jefferson snapped, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I have social anxiety. I can manage it most times, but in larger crowds, it can get the better of me.” Alexander winced, he’d struck a nerve. It really hadn’t been his business.

Hamilton would be working with Jefferson for the next two years, whether he liked it or not. The least he could do was even the playing field, at least in this instance.

He focused his vision forward. “I have a bipolar disorder, I don’t like to talk about it,” Alexander admitted. His lips quirked upward into a sort of bitter smile. “One of the only things I don’t like to talk about, really. Washington knew about it too.” 

“That man had an ear in every conversation in DC.”

“Cheers to that.” The two men stood together silently, taking deep sips from their respective drink of choice.

Jefferson stared into his whiskey pensively. “Thank you for telling me, Hamilton.” Alexander shrugged.

“It’s the least I can do,” he threw back the rest of his glass. “See you around, Jefferson.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
